


The Walls of Limerick

by closetcellist



Category: Battle for London in the Air
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, light!Dr. Jhandir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 04:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7829674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andrew thinks Dr. Jhandir doesn't get out enough--a ceili is obviously the answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Walls of Limerick

Dr. Jhandir looked around the large, open space, taking in the groups of people gathering around the edges, and sighed. “I’ve been laboring under the impression that we were friends,” he said to Andrew, who was setting down his bag by the wall.

Andrew shot him an amused look. “As was I.”

“Yet, it seems like you’ve brought me somewhere specifically to embarrass me,” Dr. Jhandir said.

Andrew shook his head. “Can you count to three? Do you know your left from your right?” Dr. Jhandir shot him a scathing look. “Well, then you’re going to be fine. You might even have fun. And meet people.” He clapped Dr. Jhandir on the back as he finished, before he caught sight of someone and jogged off with a “Be right back.”

Dr. Jhandir tried very hard to remember why he’d let himself be convinced to show up in this place—the second floor of a Catholic church for a social dance that he didn’t know how to do, instead of back home, reading and caring for his plants, actually relaxing. Andrew had been unfortunately persistent at their weekly night out, and so enthusiastic. He knew it was a bad idea to agree to things after drinks had been consumed.

Andrew returned in short order, leading Cordelia over to where he’d left the doctor. “Captain French will be joining us,” Andrew announced.

“This is something I never expected to see,” Cordelia said, looking far too amused to see Dr. Jhandir there. “I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I don’t, normally,” Dr. Jhandir said, somewhat stiffly. “I might not tonight either.”

“Oh, yes, you will,” Andrew said. “I promise it’s much more awkward to stand along the wall than join the group. There’s always plenty of new people and they go through the dances before you start them. It’s Captain French’s first time at a ceili too, so you’re in good company. Plus there’s always more girls than guys, so you’ll be very popular.”

Dr. Jhandir grimaced.

“You can watch the first one if you want,” Andrew conceded. “To get the idea. But you _are_ going to dance tonight and you are going to have fun.”

“As are we,” Cordelia said, taking Andrew’s arm. “Now, I believe you promised to introduce me to your brother…”

“As soon as he gets here,” Andrew promised.

The room was filling up, a much larger crowd than Dr. Jhandir had expected, though he would admit he knew next to nothing about the Irish community in this or any other neighborhood. A small band of four started to unpack their instruments, a violin, some kind of painted drum Dr. Jhandir was certain had a name with more consonants than necessary, a banjo, and, to his increasing displeasure, an accordion.

The one with the banjo approached a microphone which turned out not to be on yet. “All right, everybody!” he shouted to the room. “We’re going to get started. First, it looks like we’ve got a lot of newcomers so we’ll go over the basic steps that make up all the dances. Everybody that wants to dance, come on up! Front and center!”

Dr. Jhandir crossed his arms, but Andrew put an arm around his shoulders and half-propelled him into the middle of the room with the rest of the people gathering to learn or re-learn the steps. “It’s really easy,” Andrew promised Dr. Jhandir quietly.

“That’s not my worry,” Dr. Jhandir muttered to himself.

“Right, now!” The banjo player and caller of the dance called out, clapping his hands. The microphone let out a squeal. “Ah, looks like that’s working,” he said, and the crowd laughed as he picked it up. “First step is the set. Very easy. Three steps in place—one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three.” He played a short melody for them to practice to two a moment, Dr. Jhandir reluctantly making an attempt. It wasn’t hard, that was true, but he felt extraordinarily silly essentially bouncing in place. They went through the rest of the basic steps; there were only a few, and all easily graspable with a few repetitions.

Andrew looked delighted watching Cordelia even though they had barely started, and Dr. Jhandir swallowed his own complaints, unwilling to taint that moment for his friend even if it was essentially torture to be here.

Once the introductory steps were gone over, everyone dispersed back to the walls, several people taking out bottles of water they’d brought, obviously people who had danced before and come prepared. Andrew pulled one out of his bag and handed it to Dr. Jhandir with a grin. “I thought it might scare you away if I told you you’d have to bring something,” he admitted. “You’ve got a minute before the first dance—band’s got to tune up. And—Liam!”

The last was directed toward a man who looked a lot like Andrew, who drew him into a tight hug. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I finished my rounds at the hospital and I realized I hadn’t brought a change of clothes.”

“That’s okay,” Andrew said, smiling. “Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Captain French—”

“Cordelia,” Cordelia cut in, holding out a hand and giving Liam a firm handshake. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Liam. Andrew talks about you all the time.”

“And that’s Dr. Jhandir,” Andrew said.

Liam gave Dr. Jhandir a bright smile, shaking his hand in two of his own. “You’re the one who fixed my brother’s hand. I’ve been hoping to get a chance to meet you, so I could thank you.”

“It was nothing,” Dr. Jhandir said, though in truth it had been a very delicate surgery. “You said you work at a hospital as well?” he asked, taking his hand back as soon as it was reasonably possible.

“Volunteer ward chaplain,” Liam said. “Andrew has taken it upon himself to make sure I socialize, and I think perhaps he’s doing the same for you.”

Dr. Jhandir hummed in agreement as the band called the first dance. He was first relieved and then immediately discomfited again as he realized the thing was actually starting and he’d have to dance again.

“The first dance is an easy one,” the banjo player promised. “It’s the Walls of Limerick, for those who know already.” Andrew, of course, nodded as though that meant something. “Gather up and we’ll show you how it’s done. Make groups of four, two men and two ladies!”

Dr. Jhandir looked at the door, though whether it would be more embarrassing to retreat or dance was difficult to say. Andrew made his decision for him, tugging him into a group with Cordelia and another woman he didn’t know.

“Gentlemen, take your ladies’ hands—and if you don’t know them, maybe introduce yourself first.” A laugh spread throughout the room and Dr. Jhandir managed a semblance of a smile for the woman to his right before he reluctantly offered his hand, ignoring Andrew’s grin.

“Now, we’ll walk through it once before we start the music. Two sets forward—one-two-three, one-two-three—and two sets back—one-two-three, one-two-three.” Dr. Jhandir walked the steps half-heartedly, while Andrew bounced along with the count the way it was likely supposed to be danced.

“Ladies—swap places, sevens diagonal, then a set in place,” the banjo player called, and apparently that made sense to Cordelia and the other woman as they passed each other in the middle of the square, bouncing three steps in their new place. Dr. Jhandir glanced at Cordelia just as the banjo player called out, “Now, the men,” and he had to move.

“Take the hand of the person across from you, and sevens out to the side, and then back.” Cordelia raised a challenging eyebrow and Dr. Jhandir took her hand—he couldn’t exactly get out of it now—and let her lead, as seemed natural.

“Final move—this is the hardest.” Dr. Jhandir sighed. “Cross hands with your original partner, and spin to the left, around the couple you were just facing, until you’re in a new group.” Dr. Jhandir held his hands up, a bit like he might for a pair of handcuffs, and let the woman take them, trying to turn as described, though it didn’t make much sense to him. Luckily his partner seemed to understand, and he ended up facing a different couple.

“Everybody got it?” the banjo player asked. “I’ll call the steps as we go through the first few rounds. But now let’s start the music!” The drummer tapped out a rhythm and the music started up, something Dr. Jhandir would have described as an Irish jig, which he suspected is how he’d describe anything he heard tonight. It occurred to him suddenly how many people’s hands he’d have to touch during the course of this dance alone.

He was not going to let Andrew talk him into leaving his house ever again.


	2. The Siege of Ennis

Dr. Jhandir poured Andrew another drink, the second of the night. In exchange for going out the week before (all right, week and a half, the hospital had been even busier than usual), Andrew had agreed to a quiet night in this time. It wasn’t much of a fight—Dr. Jhandir had a collection of very fine whiskies and scotches that Andrew was always happy enough to help him diminish.

“So, did you like the ceili?” Andrew finally asked. He knew the doctor had been reluctant, and hadn’t really gotten into it, but he’d had high hopes that his friend would find someone there he liked well enough just through sheer numbers.

“It was…an experience,” Dr. Jhandir said.

“A good experience?” Andrew asked hopefully, though he didn’t expect a real answer to that.

“Andrew…” Dr. Jhandir said, looking away for a moment. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really. I appreciate where the sentiment comes from. But, and I admit, I might have this wrong, were you hoping to set me up with someone at that dance?”

Andrew looked slightly guilty. “I thought you might meet someone,” he admitted. “Not that you had to. But you never go out and I know how hard it is to meet people at bars. I thought it could be good for you.”

Dr. Jhandir considered that for a moment. “It’s very kind of you. I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but don’t try to set me up again.”

“I don’t mean to overstep,” Andrew said, looking guiltier. “I just thought you might be lonely. Especially since I talk about Captain French so often, and I know you…well…”

Dr. Jhandir shook his head. “I am neither lonely nor envious of you relationship,” he said. “I am simply not interested.”

“In…dating?” Andrew asked, furrowing his brow.

“In women,” Dr. Jhandir said.

Andrew’s brow furrowed further. “Oh. Does that…mean…”

Dr. Jhandir realized what Andrew meant before he forced himself to ask out loud. “No. I’m not interested in anyone.”

Andrew stared at him for a moment, before laughing self-consciously. “Like Sherlock Holmes,” he said. He looked around the meticulously decorated room and rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably should have figured.”

“I don’t remember that being part of the stories,” Dr. Jhandir said, a bit wrong-footed.

“In the tv show,” Andrew clarified. “It’s a thing.”

“Does this detour mean you understand and will stop trying to find dates for me?” Dr. Jhandir asked.

“Yes, all right,” Andrew conceded. “What about friends?”

“What about them?” Dr. Jhandir asked.

“Are you uninterested in those as well?” Andrew asked. “I do know people. Nice, interesting people that you might like.”

“I have plenty of friends,” Dr. Jhandi said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, all right,” Andrew said. “All right. If you say so.”

 

***

 

“You are very distracted,” Cordelia said, taking Andrew’s hand across the table. Andrew had asked her out to dinner that Friday and while it had started out lovely, his attention had begun to drift during dessert. “What’s wrong?”

“I think the Doc needs more friends,” Andrew confessed to Cordelia.

Cordelia bit her lip to stop her smile, looking up and shaking her head. “I’ve always thought he had about as many as he could handle.”

“I know he can be a bit rough around the edges,” Andrew said. “But that doesn’t mean he should be alone all the time.”

“That’s true,” Cordelia said. “But he has friends. He has friends at the hospital and there’s Beth and Phinn, and you…”

“That’s the full list,” Andrew said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Did it occur to you that he might not want more friends than that?” Cordelia asked.

Andrew grimaced, shrugging. It had, but it seemed impossible that someone could simply not want more than three friends (work friends didn’t count). “Do you know what he told me?”

“What did he tell you?” Cordelia asked, resting her chin on her hand, looking fondly amused.

“That he’s not interested in people,” Andrew said.

“That would explain a lot of things,” Cordelia said, laughing quietly. “Possibly everything.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Andrew said, helplessly.

“I think I know what you meant. I stand by my statement,” Cordelia said. “It’s very sweet of you to worry about him so much, but I don’t think it’s necessary.”

“But—“ Andrew tried to protest.

“Andrew,” Cordelia said, looking him in the eye. “Dr. Jhandir is an adult. He can take care of himself. And you are on a date with me, not him.”

“Sorry,” Andrew said, flushing. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m making a mess of things.”

“I forgive you,” Cordelia said. “And you aren’t. But I’d rather talk about you and me right now. Where are we going after dinner?”

“Um, well, I didn’t have anything specific planned…”

“Then how about I come over for coffee,” Cordelia said, smiling. “Or after-dinner drinks. Or a movie. Whatever excuse you like. Your choice.”

“Would you like to come over to my place for a nightcap?” Andrew asked, smiling back.

“You know, I would like that,” Cordelia said, laughing. “I would like that very much.”


	3. Haymakers Jig

Andrew would admit this was more interesting than he had feared. After the slightly embarrassing last date with Cordelia, Andrew had vowed to put in more effort, so when she had suggested an upcoming local flower show as something that might be fun, he agreed, even though he thought it sounded like it might be dreadfully boring. But if Cordelia was interested, he could be too.

It turned out to be much, much larger than Andrew had expected, the exhibition hall that Cordelia drove them to filled with a wider variety of people than he had imagined as well. They got their guest badges (which cost more than Andrew thought was necessary to look at some flowers), and gently maneuvered their way through the crowd into the first room.

Though they were indoors, someone had done a very good job of setting up the space to make it seem as though they weren’t—even the light seemed brighter, the room heavy with fragrance. Rows and rows of flowers filled the space, clusters watched over by exhibitors who talked with anyone who stopped to look. This room seemed to hold flowers that Andrew recognized, or at least which seemed familiar—roses and tulips and other things which you’d find at a normal flower shop, though in more abundance and infinitely more colors than he’d seen before.

Andrew let Cordelia lead the way, looking over whatever was closest when they stopped, happy enough to listen to her marvel over how interesting these speckled ones were or how dark this rose was. Andrew was convinced that some of them were dyed somehow, like when you stuck a white flower in a cup with food coloring and it sucked it up to the petals, but he was assured they were bred that way, no cheating necessary.

They’d arrived after judging had taken place, so many of the flowers sported ribbons on their pots or resting near them. After the first room, Andrew and Cordelia decided they were probably experts on flowers and could judge them well enough themselves, like the flower Olympics. Though not, of course, if the exhibitor was near them.

“Now this one,” Andrew said, of a bright red _Anthurium_ , though he couldn’t tell you that’s what it was called, “Is just a red leaf.”

Cordelia laughed, covering her mouth when someone looked over at them. “Andrew,” she protested. “I’m sure this is someone’s favorite flower.”

“Favorite leaf,” Andrew corrected with a grin.

“It won an award,” Cordelia said, pointing out the large ribbon with the gilded “2” on it. “Second best leaf-flower.”

“I wonder who won first best leaf-flower,” Andrew said, looking around.

“We’ll find it,” Cordelia said, taking Andrew’s arm again and strolling down the row. They did find the first-prize-winning _Anthurium_ some steps away, though in their professional opinion, it was less red and more leafy, so probably shouldn’t have won.

This room was warmer, as befitted the tropical room, and the colors around them were more varied and vibrant; even Andrew got distracted by some of them. The Latin names of these flowers were stuck on little cards near the exotic plants— _Scadoxus multiflorus, Consolida Ajacis, Spathodea campanulata, Heliconia Pendula_. Strange names for strangely shaped plants.

They made their way about halfway through the tropical room before Andrew thought he saw someone familiar, turning to look again, shocked when he realized he had.

Dr. Jhandir stood by a cluster of plants, wearing an exhibitor’s badge, and chatting happily with another flower enthusiast. It was difficult to say which part was most surprising—the badge, his open and happy expression, or his clothes. Andrew had seen him in scrubs, muted and serious suits, and a few times in dark jeans and expensive, plain shirts. But this was something else—a cream-colored linen shirt under a green and orange painted silk vest and tie. It could have, possibly should have, looked tacky, or like a costume, but it was so well-fitted, so obviously expensive, and so in tune with the setting and the vibrant plants around them that somehow Dr. Jhandir seemed to be the only person who truly belonged there.

“Now that’s a surprise,” Cordelia murmured, spotting Dr. Jhandir as well. Andrew was glad she’d been the one to bring it up—he’d been a bit worried she might think he’d planned this somehow, considering their last few dates.

“I didn’t know he was a flower person,” Andrew said.

“We should go say ‘hello.’” Cordelia decided, smiling to herself. “I think we might surprise him as much as he surprised us.”

She was right about that, if Dr. Jhandir’s expression was anything to go by when they walked up. Still, Andrew beat him when he caught sight of the plants around his friend.

“Does that plant have teeth?” he asked, aghast. It was an ugly thing, a mottled blackish color with forbidding tooth-like spikes lining the mouth of its bulbous form.

“Not really,” Dr. Jhandir said, floundering. “Andrew. Cordelia. I didn’t know you were going to attend.”

“Well, we didn’t know you liked…what is that?” Andrew asked, still distracted by the plant.

“It’s a _Nepenthes hamata_ ,” Dr. Jhandir said. “A pitcher plant.”

“An award-winning one,” a young man cut in. Andrew had forgotten that Dr. Jhandir had been talking to someone else. “I’m Aaron, it’s nice to meet you. Do you know Dr. J?” he asked, with a smile, as though he was actually the one with an in here.

“Yes, we’re friends,” Andrew said, sounding accidentally defensive.

“But you didn’t know he grew _Nepenthes_?” Aaron asked. “He’s only the best at it.”

Dr. Jhandir stifled a smile. “That’s not entirely true,” he protested, without any real force.

“He’s won first place for his pitchers for the last five years,” Aaron said, loyally.

“Right,” Andrew said, glancing at the forbidding plant again. It did have a ribbon by it, with a very prominent “1” in the center.

“I would have shown you my greenhouse if I thought you were interested,” Dr. Jhandir said, a bit apologetically.

“Well, we’re not…I mean, we’re interested, but we’re not, you know…” Andrew tried to think of a way to say that he didn’t care that much about flowers without being insulting. It proved difficult.

Dr. Jhandir seemed to understand though his companion seemed less impressed, shaking his head in the background.

“It was good to see you regardless,” Dr. Jhandir said.

“Yes, it was a nice surprise,” Cordelia said, reasserting their date. “But we have a lot of other flowers to look at.”

Dr. Jhandir inclined his head. “I’ll see you next week then, Andrew.”

“Right, next week,” Andrew said, trying to decide if he should look up something about flowers before then.

“Bye, Andrew,” Aaron called after them, unnecessarily.

“I told you he had enough friends,” Cordelia said quietly as they headed away.

Somehow, Andrew felt a little disappointed at that.


	4. The Waves of Tory

Andrew was beginning to regret this.

It had started so simply, and it should have been straightforward. Cordelia had been invited to her cousin’s wedding and she’d asked him to come along as her date. Of course Andrew had agreed, and been delighted to be asked, but he’d quickly realized that his wardrobe was a little bit lacking in the formal department, so naturally, he’d asked Dr. Jhandir, who was generally his best-dressed friend, for some advice.

Apparently he wasn’t to be trusted with mere advice. Dr. Jhandir had insisted on helping him personally, by which it seemed he meant taking Andrew to the shopping centre in person, and choosing some clothes for him.

“What is Cordelia wearing?” Dr. Jhandir asked. He’d steered Andrew into Harrods, ignoring his look of consternation and discomfort entirely. Andrew felt terribly out of place—there were far fewer people and far more open space than the stores he usually shopped at, and he suspected there was little in it he could actually afford.

“A dress,” Andrew said. “A fancy one.”

Dr. Jhandir sighed. “Andrew. What _color_ dress?”

“I don’t know,” Andrew said. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Dr. Jhandir said, shaking his head. “If you’re going as her date, you have to make sure you don’t clash with her.”

“How can I clash with her if I’m wearing a black jacket?” Andrew asked, his eyebrows furrowing. He remembered, distantly, jokes about there being different colors of black but he could not imagine they were true or something anyone actually believed.

“Your tie and your pocket square can very easily clash. And you can’t go to a wedding without wearing a tie. Ask Cordelia what color dress she’s wearing. Or, better, have her text a picture of it. We can get you something that will complement it.”

“My phone doesn’t do pictures,” Andrew said, holding the small, compact, very dumb phone out to remind the doctor what he was working with.

Dr. Jhandir gave him a long, slow look. “Then have her text a picture to me.”

“All right,” Andrew said, mostly resigned to being ordered around for the rest of the excursion. He sent a quick text to Captain French, not without some interest on his part, though for very different reasons than the doctor’s. Though, since the doc would be the one getting the picture, it hopefully wouldn’t be too exciting.

While they waited for a response, Dr. Jhandir shepherded Andrew over to look at shirts, something he apparently could be trusted with, for the moment. He _did_ know his shirt size, thankfully, though it baffled him how so many shirts that looked essentially identical, could be sold for such very different prices.

“What about this?” Andrew asked, raising his eyebrows hopefully and holding out a plain white shirt that, in comparison to its fellows, wasn’t too expensive.

Dr. Jhandir glanced at the shirt and back at Andrew. “Are you joking?”

“No?” Andrew said hopefully, though he feared that expression meant they might end up looking just at shirts for the next hour.

Dr. Jhandir shook his head. Apparently Andrew was _not_ actually to be trusted with shirts. The doctor scanned the (identical) shirts Andrew had passed over to find his reasonable one, and chose one that was apparently different in some indiscernible way that made it better than the one Andrew had found. “Get this one.”

Andrew thought briefly about protesting but in the choice between accepting orders and being trapped in this store forever, accepting orders was clearly the superior choice. Dr. Jhandir took his silence as the acceptance it was and steered him towards the jackets and pants, not waiting this time for Andrew to try picking any out himself, and simply choosing a few and making him try them on. “Really you should get one tailored for you,” the doctor murmured, mostly to himself, but in the end one of the off-the-rack jackets was deemed acceptable.

Finally, Cordelia texted a picture of her dress and Andrew was led to a rainbow display of silk ties and matching pocket squares. Cordelia’s dress was a dark navy blue, so Andrew expected the doctor to pick out a blue tie, but for some reason (probably fashion) he was looking at oranges.

“Doc, this is all great and everything, but I’m not gonna be able to afford this,” Andrew said, somewhat awkwardly after he’d finally glanced at the price tags and done some mental math. Somehow, he realized, he was holding at least a month’s paycheck in his arms and didn’t that leave him feeling like a fool. “I know it’s a wedding, but it’s only her cousin. I’ve just got to look nice enough.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dr. Jhandir said, still scrutinizing a patterned tie. He held it up next to Andrew, apparently to see if it clashed with his hair.

Andrew’s brow furrowed. “I can’t let you buy it _for_ me,” he said after a moment. “I know we’re friends but this is too much.”

“Andrew,” Dr. Jhandir said, lowering the tie and looking him in the eye. “I am doing the world a favor by getting you one decent outfit. Don’t worry about it.”

Andrew sighed. “Doc—”

“You can buy us lunch,” Dr. Jhandir said, turning back to the selection of ties, settling the matter for both of them and ignoring any of Andrew’s further protests. Eventually Andrew relented, because he decided he would only be comfortable wearing the tie that the doctor finally picked out if someone were paying him.

Dr. Jhandir’s phone pinged again just after they’d check out and he scowled when he glanced at the screen. “Ugh,” the doctor grumbled, punching in his password and scrolling.

“What’s wrong?” Andrew asked.

“Suttler,” Dr. Jhandir said, completely focused on his phone.

“Doc,” Andrew said, slowly. “Do you have your phone set up to tell you when people you don’t like post things you don’t want to see, on the internet?”

“Of course,” Dr. Jhandir said, as though a normal human acted that way.

Andrew sighed, but was somehow not surprised. “All right. What is it this time?”

“Look at his horrible dog,” Dr. Jhandir said, holding up his phone to show Andrew what turned out to be a very sweet picture of a corgi looking delighted to be wearing a tiny, fake dog backpack on a hiking trail.

“Right,” Andrew said, trying not to laugh and for the moment succeeding. “Horrible.”

“And what is this?” Dr. Jhandir asked, taking his phone back for a moment to swipe to the next picture, apparently also just posted. “Who does this?”

“This” turned out to be a photo apparently taken by another hiker of Dr. Suttler and what had to be his boyfriend, given the posed kiss they were sharing. It was a little sappy, Andrew would admit, but the view behind them was beautiful and the dog looked just as delighted to be in that picture too. The picture was tagged #Eli and #Marshmallow, and Andrew had to hope the dog’s name was Marshmallow and not Eli, because otherwise he would be tempted to judge the picture as harshly as the doctor. Still, it did give him the idea to ask Cordelia if she wanted to go on a hike. “I think regular people do that,” Andrew said. “Just, normal, everyday people. If they like hiking.”

Dr. Jhandir took his phone back for good with an eye roll. Luckily there was a coffee shop nearby and it was easy enough to distract him for a short time with lunch. After the meal, they’d headed out on a short walk—the wedding was going to replace their usual time together so Andrew had decided they might as well make a day of it—when disaster struck. It seemed impossible that seven dogs could appear out of nowhere, but Andrew would swear that was what happened; a clear sidewalk, then suddenly dogs, everywhere, jostling and barking and jumping and making the doctor spill coffee on himself because they were certainly not under the control of the gangly man holding their leashes.

“This is Italian silk, you fucktruck!” Dr. Jhandir swore, holding his coffee-stained sleeve away from himself as though it were infected. Andrew was momentarily too shocked to laugh at the ridiculous expletive, which was probably for the best, given how angry the doctor looked.

The dog walker looked over his shoulder, and just grinned before continuing on his way, his retreat only mostly blameable on the barking horde moving inexorably forward.

“Blast it all,” Dr. Jhandir said, scowling furiously. “I’m going to have to replace this.”

Andrew blanched—they were going to have to go back to the store.


	5. THe High-Cauled Cap

“Look at this!”

Cordelia looked over at Andrew’s find and sighed, fondly but not precisely happily. She would never regret any activity she did with Andrew, but it was possible she shouldn’t have taken him along on this particular trip. Still, he looked so excited about the hideous thing he’d found. “That’s…really something,” Cordelia offered, as kindly as she could manage for what was apparently a stuffed squirrel in a vest and hat, with a fishing pole. It was as though someone had taken one of those insufferable garden gnomes and decided what it really needed was to also look like a dead animal. She couldn’t imagine where he’d found it, because it honestly didn’t look like it belonged in this store.

“Isn’t it?” Andrew asked, grinning as he looked at the horrible thing.

“I’m just not sure it really matches the theme we’re looking for,” Cordelia said, trying to gently steer him right. “Our theme is more sort of just…calm, and blue, and more like sky or ocean things, not really…forest things.”

Andrew glanced at the squirrel-thing again, looking a little disappointed, which was heartbreaking. But not heartbreaking enough for her to buy it, or even consider buying it. “Why don’t we skip the decorations for now and look for the throw pillows instead?” she suggested. Throw pillows seemed safer—there was only so much that could go wrong with a cloth square.

“All right,” Andrew said, reluctantly putting the squirrel back on the shelf. There were no others in sight and Cordelia would swear Andrew must have simply conjured it up.

Cordelia took Andrew’s arm and let him lead the way over to the furniture and throw pillows, before releasing him to let him look around. “Remember—blue,” she called after him.

Andrew nodded to himself, looking around the selection. He didn’t really understand throw pillows, as a concept, because so many of them looked uncomfortable to lay on, what with having beads or sequins or buttons or ruffles or a million other things that seemed like they’d leave strange imprints in a person’s face. Generally, his experience with throw pillows was limited to the two seconds it took to move them out of the way. But if Cordelia wanted some—wanted some _blue_ ones—he would find the best blue useless pillows he could.

Cordelia kept an eye on him as he wandered, taking in his expression when he turned so she could see it, and she realized how seriously he must be taking the task. She couldn’t stop the smile that crept on her face; he was really too sweet, even if it did seem like he didn’t know what he was doing.

Eventually, Andrew returned to her side with two pillows, and Cordelia did her best to keep her expression neutral. They weren’t the ugliest pillows she’d ever seen, and he _had_ , technically, stuck to her instructions (which were “blue” and she should probably have been more specific). But they were, well…

Andrew had chosen what he believed were the best pillows, because they were the most practical. “They’re really soft,” he said, offering them up to be felt, and Cordelia obliged, and it was true, they were very soft. One was also the dingiest navy she’d ever seen, and velvet, while the other was the brightest neon blue fur Cordelia could imagine—though she had spent very little time imagining such a thing, because she hadn’t expected it to appear in her life.

“They are very soft,” Cordelia agreed. “And they’re blue.” Andrew sighed, because neither of those things were actually an expression of liking them. “But I’m not sure they’re exactly what I’m looking for. What do you think of these?”

In case this exact situation happened (not liking what Andrew had found, not having to confront a neon pillow, that she hasn’t exactly prepared for), she’d picked out two pillows she did actually like, thinking to let Andrew choose between them, so he could feel like he was helping. One was a cornflower blue textured with ruffles cut to look like feathers, while the other was a patchwork of different blues, woven together with gold accents in a way that almost looked like fish scales.

“I like that one,” Andrew said, picking the scale-y pillow (which was actually a Moroccan tile pattern, though he’d never have guessed that). It didn’t have any surprise sequins, so it seemed the obvious choice to him, between those two.

“I like it too,” Cordelia said, giving him an encouraging smile and a peck on the cheek. It did make him feel better, he had to admit, as he took her arm again and let her lead the way to the next section. Cordelia was doing a fairly extensive bout of redecorating, since she’d moved into a new place with more space and it had seemed like the right time to update some of her things. She steered them over to look at dish sets, deciding this time to pick out a few options and let Andrew help her choose between them, since it had worked much better with the pillows, and she did have a fairly clear idea of what she wanted in her kitchen.

Andrew “helped” the best he could, but after they’d gone through dishes and towels and gotten sidetracked by decorative salt and pepper shakers, it was obvious that while he wanted to be spending time with Cordelia, he wasn’t feeling particularly useful.

“One last thing,” Cordelia promised him. “Then we can go to lunch.”

“Is there anything left to be replaced?” Andrew asked.

“Drapes,” Cordelia said. “For my bedroom. Do you want to pick some out?”

“Am I being trusted again?” Andrew asked, wryly.

“I trust you always,” Cordelia said, which was mostly true.

Andrew laughed, lightly, and headed off to look at drapes. He did try, as he had been trying the rest of the trip, though it was easy to reject most of them because what he was really looking for was a way to get out of the store. Finally, he found ones that he liked—he figured he didn’t have to say he liked them because they reminded him of a sexy nightgown—and brought them over to Cordelia for her final judgement.

“That’s…actually perfect,” Cordelia said, trying not to sound too shocked. After the throw pillows, she hadn’t been entirely sure about trusting him with colors, regardless of what she’d said, but these were really lovely, the perfect shade of sky blue that would lighten the rest of her room considerably.

“Really?” Andrew asked, brightening up. “You like it?”

“Yes, they’re wonderful,” Cordelia said, brushing her fingers over the fabric of the drapes. It felt like good quality too. “They’re just right. And now, you’re free of shopping,” she added, giving him another chaste kiss.

“Is it terrible that’s the part I was most looking forward to?” Andrew asked, with a lopsided grin.

“Only if that means you picked things you didn’t think I’d like on purpose,” Cordelia challenged, raising an eyebrow.

“I never would,” Andrew said. “I’ve been told by reliable sources that I’m just a little bit hopeless at it.”

“I wonder who could have said that,” Cordelia said, shaking her head with a quiet laugh. “I don’t think you’re hopeless.”

“I do think that squirrel was cute,” Andrew said.

“Don’t make me change my mind.”


End file.
